by Olly Jarvis
‘Before I tell you,’ he said, his voice trembling with emotion. ‘I want you to know my feelings for you are genuine.’
She felt nauseous.
‘I work for the government.’
She stepped back. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You have to understand,’ he implored. ‘This is way bigger than both of us.’
She screwed her face up, irritated by the platitudes. ‘So, this is about the inquiry?’
He didn’t reply immediately.
‘Is it?’ she demanded.
‘Yes.’ He moved forward and held her arm. ‘But—’
‘So, how we met?’ Tears beginning to flow. ‘The bike crash?’ Anger turned to sadness. ‘It was all…’
He grimaced. ‘You don’t understand.’
She pulled her arm away. ‘Is your name even Greg?’
He didn’t answer.
‘I slept with you.’
He didn’t react.
The dope smokers looked over, sniggered, then refocussed on the reefer that was passing between them.
‘You bastard,’ she shrieked in his face, before running off into the rain.
He followed, grabbing at her arm again. ‘Lizzie, please, just listen.’
She yanked it away. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Don’t you get it?’ he shouted after her. ‘We need you.’
She turned, curiosity overcoming the betrayal. ‘Why?’
He walked towards her. ‘They made me come to you and not your mother for a reason.’
Still backing away, she was listening.
‘They need someone sensible, someone they can trust…’ he said.
‘Who’s they?’
He lunged forward and pulled her into a shop doorway. Droplets were still rolling down his face. ‘We have to find Matthew Shepherd’s work before anyone else.’
She’d never seen him look so grave.
‘I hated lying to you but…’ He choked up. ‘The British Government have to find it first.’
Lizzie was struggling to take in what he was saying.
‘Your mother’s great, but she’s too flaky for this.’
‘Why’s it so important?’ She brushed the water off her face. ‘Tell me what you know?’
He glanced at the road. There was no one around.
‘We think it’s a weapon.’
‘A weapon?’ She didn’t know what to believe. ‘How do you know?’
‘That’s all they’ve told me.’ He studied her face, as if deciding whether to disclose more. ‘I’m a field intelligence operative. My job was to keep tabs on what Ella knows.’
Lizzie thought it through, then stepped back. ‘This is bullshit, you could’ve just asked her.’
‘We don’t trust her, we trust you.’ He sighed. ‘I was supposed to just observe, check she didn’t know anything. Then we found out about the USB drive. By then she was too close to Jay and the American. We don’t know who they are.’
Lizzie couldn’t tell if she was being hoodwinked. She remembered what had happened to Jay. ‘Are you from MI6?’
‘No.’
She could see the tension in his face. He was a man under immense pressure.
‘I’m part of a government team set up just for this. Doesn’t even have a name.’ Seeming to realise what he’d said, he added, ‘We don’t believe any of that Jay stuff about being duped, we just haven’t been able to find out who he’s working for.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ she replied, her tone curt. ‘He’s certainly no coke dealer, is he?’
His head dropped. ‘No,’ he said, sounding contrite. ‘It was all I could think of on the spot, I had orders to protect my cover.’ Still looking strained, he shuddered. ‘Lizzie, you have to understand, this is the most important thing you or I will ever do.’
The interrogation was nearly over. She got to the final question. ‘So, what do you need from me?’
Greg looked deep into her eyes. ‘The password.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
Ella and the others stood in the archway, patiently waiting for a lull in what had now become a full-blown rainstorm.
Jay had persuaded Ella that they should go via the Mitre on their way back to pick up Lizzie, even though it was in the opposite direction.
At last, the downpour began to ease off. They darted down the steps and turned right up King’s Parade towards the pub, hugging the sides of the buildings for shelter.
Just as they crossed the road to turn onto Bridge Street, Ella turned to see Jay, who was bringing up the rear, watching two motorbikes which seemed to be bearing down on them, only metres away. The rain had muffled any warning.
‘Look out!’ he yelled.
Both bikes had two riders, in dark leathers and full-face helmets. The lead motorcycle slowed as it passed, allowing the pillion rider to thrust out an arm and grab at Jay’s laptop bag.
The force yanked him off his feet and he landed splayed out on the wet pavement. The strap was diagonally across his body and the bag had stayed in place. The second bike came towards him, spray flying up on either side. Jay had got himself up onto all fours. Broady rushed across the bike’s path and, in one movement, rolled Jay up onto the pavement.
The bike sped on, turned in a loop, and came to a stop.
Broady pulled Jay to his feet and looked over at Ella, whose expression was one of utter disbelief.
‘Come on,’ Broady said, pulling Jay back in the direction from which they’d come.
‘Down here,’ Ella shouted, taking a right down an alley towards St John’s. She could hear the revving of engines behind them as they ran, splashing through the puddles. To her horror there was no way out. ‘Dead end!’ she shouted, desperately looking around her.
Jay had a confused expression as if trying to get his bearings. ‘This way,’ he said, leading them through a door and into Chapel Court. They ran across the open space and into the Master’s Garden, coming out by the Cam.
Relying on Jay’s knowledge of the gardens, they fell in behind as he weaved his way alongside the river, climbing over a wall and using cut-throughs to get across the lawns and past the Bridge of Sighs until they reached Kitchen Bridge.
Panting, they stopped to catch their breath.
Ella held her head up, gulping in air, whilst Broady hunched over, resting his hands on his knees.
‘We need to keep going,’ Jay shouted to be heard above the deafening splashing of water pouring off the gargoyles above.
They moved out onto the bridge, squinting for a view of the other side, the sheets of rain hampering visibility.
As they got halfway across, Ella heard the dreaded sound of revving engines again then suddenly a headlight illuminated their path – one of the motorcycles, waiting on the other side.
Ella was the first to double-back, only to be met by another bike blocking their way.
The pillion passenger dismounted and took several steps forward, positioning himself in front of the beam. His gait was male but the helmet made it impossible to be sure.
He pulled out a handgun and pointed it straight at Ella.
Before she had time to take in the full horror of what was happening, Broady dived in front of her and stuck out an arm. ‘Wait!’
The man fired.
It took a moment for Ella to realise. It hardly made a sound, there was only the dull thud of the silencer. The force of it jerked Broady’s body back. He staggered backwards into Ella, but managed to regain his balance, keeping his body in front of hers.
Ella screamed, ‘No!’
The gunman lined up another shot, this time using his left arm to steady himself.
‘You want this?’ Jay shouted.
The shooter didn’t move.
Ella turned around to see Jay dangling the laptop bag over the side of the bridge.
‘Fire again and this is gone forever,’ he snarled.
The man lowered his arm slightly, as if unsure of the right course.
On seeing his indecision,
Ella took out her phone and dialled McDonald. ‘I’m ringing the police,’ she yelled at him.
The man raised his arm again, then stopped, as his companion said something to him that Ella couldn’t make out. He got back on the motorbike and they accelerated past them, over the bridge, joining their companions. They disappeared off into the night.
‘It’s Ella Blake,’ Ella said as her call was picked up, her voice shaking. ‘We’re on Kitchen Bridge, Broady has been shot.’ Nothing seemed real anymore. ‘Just get an ambulance.’ Turning to Broady, Ella tried to process what just happened. His legs began to wobble. Ella grabbed at his torso before he fell, managing to support him as he dropped to the ground and helping him to sit, propped against the stone balustrades.
A patch of blood was forming on his jacket.
She pulled it back off his shoulder, trying to locate the wound. ‘Why do you wear so many fucking layers?’
‘English weather,’ he mumbled. His eyelids were losing the battle to stay open.
She found the hole on the side of his gut. Blood was oozing out. She untucked her blouse and tore off a strip then pushed it hard onto the lesion. ‘Stay with me, Hank,’ she demanded. ‘Stay with me.’
With no fight left, his eyes closed.
She slapped his cheek. ‘Hank?’ And again, ‘Hank?’
The sound of police sirens drew closer.
Jay ran to the edge of the bridge and frantically waved his arms.
The rain had stopped.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Ella and Jay sat in silence, side by side, outside McDonald’s office. Ella was numb, unable to process the evening’s events.
A couple of young detectives ogled the bedraggled pair as they passed them on the corridor. Ella knew her smudged eyeliner, ripped shirt and the way her hair had dried made her look like someone out of A Clockwork Orange. Her phone pinged. ‘Thank God,’ she said, reading the message. ‘Lizzie’s at the hospital.’
‘Wonder where she was all night?’ Jay muttered.
The door opened and McDonald appeared, standing in the doorway with a disdainful expression. ‘Come in,’ he said like a headmaster beckoning in two unruly pupils.
Ella got up first. ‘Can we make this quick? I want to get back to the hospital.’
‘All in good time,’ McDonald replied. ‘Let’s see if you can’t help us catch whoever did this.’ He gave Jay a contemptuous look. ‘Don’t you think that’s the priority here?’
A smartly-dressed woman with a ginger bob and opaque skin was standing behind McDonald’s desk. The trouser creases on her two-piece were razor sharp.
McDonald shut the door behind them, then held out an arm in the stranger’s direction. This is Jane Harris. She’s from MI6.’ The smugness on McDonald’s face dissipated on seeing that Ella and Jay seemed unsurprised.
Ella spoke up. ‘I’m Ella Blake, and this—’
‘I know who you are,’ Harris said, pointing to the two empty chairs in front of the desk. McDonald used an elbow to lean on a battered filing cabinet in the corner.
Ella and Jay sat down, while Harris remained standing, immediately giving it the feel of an interrogation. She bent over the desk. ‘Do you have any idea who shot your colleague?’
Ella gave her an icy stare. ‘Could I see your ID?’
Harris straightened up. After a brief vacillation, she produced it from her jacket pocket and held it open.
Ella reached across the desk and took it out of her hand. She studied it, then gave it to Jay, whilst she got out her phone and took a picture of it.
Harris watched with pursed lips.
‘That’s enough games,’ said McDonald, snatching it back and handing it to Harris with a subservient bow.
Ignoring him, Ella replied in a tone devoid of emotion, ‘No, I don’t know who shot him, but I bet you do?’
Harris didn’t blink. ‘You seem angry, Miss Blake.’
Ella shot back, ‘Wouldn’t you be?’
Harris looked over at McDonald who didn’t seem to understand the signal. ‘Would you give us a minute please, detective?’
His mouth fell open and his face turned red. He shot Harris a look of disbelief and then glared with resentment at Ella before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. A Snoopy cartoon on the wall vibrated then went lopsided.
Harris’ posture lost some of its stiffness. She sat down in McDonald’s chair. ‘We’re on the same side, Miss Blake.’
‘Are we?’ Ella uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. ‘I’m not into spy games, I’m just a lawyer, instructed to do a job by a university.’
Harris leaned forward too. ‘But first and foremost, you’re British?’
Ella let out a scornful laugh. ‘Cambridge are paying my bill.’
‘How about,’ said Jay, pointing at Harris, ‘you tell us what the hell is going on?’
Harris looked as if she was about to rebuke him for his impudence, but then reclined and seemed to be reassessing her approach. ‘Could you ask Mr Pitois to leave us for a moment?’
‘He stays,’ Ella shot back. ‘He saved my life tonight.’ Spitting out her words, she added: ‘And I didn’t see your arse anywhere.’
Harris gave a knowing nod then took a breath. ‘We’ve been involved for some time.’ She pressed her palms together. ‘We know there are people interested in Matthew Shepherd.’
‘Is he alive?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, seemingly unperturbed by the directness of the question.
‘You said people?’ asked Jay.
‘A group,’ she replied, directing her answer to Ella. ‘We think a group with Chinese links shot Detective Broady.’
‘Government?’ asked Ella.
‘It’s unlikely, not really their style. The bullet came from a Chinese pistol called a Type 67, it’s got an integral silencer.’ Harris tilted her head. ‘Just a bit too old-fashioned for their top people. Easy to get on the black market.’
Ella wanted to mull it over but knew there were more pressing questions. ‘Do you know who killed Cameron Shepherd?’
Harris glanced over at Jay, clearly uncomfortable about his presence. ‘The evidence points to suicide.’
Ella could tell Harris didn’t believe that. ‘You know what an Osman warning is, don’t you?’ said Ella. ‘As a government agency, if a civilian’s life is in danger, you have a duty to warn them?’
Harris’ neck started to go red. ‘I know the law, Miss Blake.’
‘Then why didn’t you warn us?’ Ella slammed her hand down on the desk. ‘You broke the law.’
‘I’m telling you now,’ she replied, remaining calm. ‘If you work with us,’ she said with an earnest expression, ‘come under our protection, we can take you out of the field until it’s all over.’
‘Out of the field?’ Ella let out a laugh. ‘I’m a lawyer for Christ’s sake.’ She glanced over at Jay. ‘He’s a student.’
‘Look,’ Harris said with more force. ‘Everyone’s getting very jumpy about what Matthew Shepherd might’ve discovered.’
‘And what’s that?’ Ella fired back.
Harris separated her hands. ‘I hoped you might be able to answer that.’
Jay laughed. ‘What, you mean you’ve got no idea?’
Harris didn’t reply.
Ella thought it through. ‘So how do you know it’s important if you don’t know anything?’
Harris put her hands on the desk. ‘Because of the way other people are behaving, particularly those who know more than us.’
Ella didn’t buy it. ‘All this is happening here, on English soil, and you say you don’t know anything? If you’re not going to trust us, why should we trust you?’ She began to get up. ‘You’re offering protection with conditions?’
‘Not offering.’ Harris gave her a cold stare. ‘I’m insisting.’
Ella was on her feet now. ‘Under what law?’ She waited for a reply.
None came.
She made to leave. Jay stood up too.<
br />
‘Hang on.’ Harris held out an arm. ‘I’ll get McDonald to arrange some protection for twenty-four hours, while you think about it.’ She got up and stared Ella down. ‘But if you decide not to play ball, you realise you’re on your own?’
Ella searched the agent’s face for some hint of warmth, a connection. She saw only cold detachment.
Jay opened the door.
‘One more thing,’ said Harris, handing her a card with a phone number on. ‘I’d keep your daughter away from Greg Brooks.’
Ella’s face dropped. ‘Why?’
Harris squinted, looking uncomfortable. ‘He’s not who he says he is.’
Ella’s eyes narrowed. ‘What does that mean?’
Harris shrugged. ‘Classified.’
Ella could hardly bear to look at her. ‘How long have you known that?’
Harris glanced at the door. ‘I’ll arrange for a police car to take you back to the hospital.
Ella sneered. ‘That’s what I thought.’ She looked pointedly at Jay and they walked out.
‘Wait!’
Ella turned and saw the indecision on Harris’ face.
The agent appeared to waver for a moment then ushered them back in, checking the corridor both ways, and shutting the door. ‘You didn’t hear it from me, OK?’ She stared intently at the barrister.
Ella dipped her head. Jay did the same.
‘We think he works for Kline,’ Harris confided like a rush of air leaving a punctured tyre. ‘One of his followers.’
‘So Kline’s not a climate change protester,’ said Ella, glancing at Jay.
Harris perched on the edge of the desk and let out more air. ‘That’s the hook but he’s a very dangerous individual. Got followers all over the world.’
‘Genesis.’ Ella let out a sardonic laugh. ‘Were he and Matthew working on the same theory?’
‘We think so,’ Harris replied, her expression sombre. ‘We’ve intercepted some chat online, Kline’s planning something big.’
‘What, some kind of protest?’ asked Jay.
‘I don’t think so.’ Harris’ worry lines became more pronounced. ‘Something impactful.’ She sighed.
‘This sounds like bullshit,’ said Jay. ‘He’s not a terrorist, he’s just a green activist.’